Learning All Things Owen Jackson

Chapter VII

Monday mornings never failed to turn me into the worst person you could ever possibly meet.

I was extremely grumpy, embarrassingly moody and awfully lazy.

If I was this huge conspiracy believer, I would most definitely believe in the release of mood altering chemicals every Monday morning just so the people behind the surveillance cameras could get a kick out of it.

And if my constant bad mood wasn't enough to support this theory, then actually feeling better in the afternoons definitely would.

Sometimes I'm even convinced that they release crazy chemicals into the homes of people like me.

My eyes were fixed to the poster that was taped to the wall in the corridor; it was merely an encouraging text with smiley faces dotted around it.

But my grumpy self wasn't having it.

"V, why do they put sickeningly cheesy bullshit around the schools?" I turned to her after catching it when we stopped to grab a textbook from her locker. "Is it supposed to make us feel better about suffering in this hellhole? Because newsflash- it doesn't."

Vanessa gave a hearty chuckle and patted my pushed out cheek. "Oh how I love grouchy Cameron...however it can't all be school that's making you especially moody today."

"What are you on about?" I replied, sighing out as I crossed my arms and fell onto the wall beside her locker.

"Could it be a...certain someone?" Vanessa suggested, tilting her head and smiling sheepishly.

"Nope." I rolled in my lips. "I'm just feeling heavily tired today- that's all."

She hummed in return and then gestured in front of us after locking her locker door.

Once getting to the right classroom, I followed her into the room and sat down at our assigned tables.

Although we were on opposite sides of the room, that did not stop us from communicating non-verbally. This involved pulling annoyed faces, rolling our eyes and making eye contact that resolved into endless choked laughter.

The classroom immediately quietened down once our teacher stepped into the room, storming to his desk and smacking a pile of exams onto the wood.

Wait...exams?

Everyone was silent. Eyes followed Mr Ward as he rifled through his briefcase, took everything he needed out before shutting it tightly and sinking onto the black spinning chair.

Swirling around, he faced all of our blank and tired faces and rose his eyebrows.

"Well?" He stated, crossing his bony arms and edging closer to the desk. "Get your pens out and let's go."

Immediately, everyone reluctantly, but fearfully, took out their pens from their pencil cases. Some shuddered to themselves; others stared back at their friends with bewilderment.

The boy with black framed glasses who was sat the front of the classroom began to get his textbook out when suddenly Mr Ward stood up, stormed over to his desk and slammed the book shut.

"This isn't open book, Roger," he sternly pointed out before chucking the textbook onto his own desk. "You can get that back at the end of the lesson."

A brave girl with black straight hair and a camouflaged jacket at the back of the classroom lifted her hand up and waited for him to acknowledge her.

"Yes, Amelia?" Mr Ward said with agitation, leaning back against his desk.

"Sorry but usually we get told about these things, you know..." She trailed off after noticing his deepening frown.

"You're year thirteen, are you not?" He enquired, raising his thick eyebrow once again.

"Uh-"

"So behave like it."

And so with that statement, no protests or objections were heard from that time forward.

We all bit our tongues and painfully did the exam.

By the time we were out of that classroom my hand was completely dead.

"Ugh my hand hurts so bad! How am I going to survive for the rest of the day?" I groaned, attempting to move my fingers but stopped when pain shot through my arm.

"Talk about first world problems, Cammie," Vanessa muttered with crossed arms, glancing at my hand before looking ahead.

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning at her unusual attitude and then nudging her elbow.

Vanessa sighed, dropped her arms and then ran her hand through her glossy brown hair.

"I'm just saying that maybe your hand is the least of your problems right now..."

"I guess," I replied, thinking back to last night and yesterday morning.

"Talk to me," she murmured, patting my hand lightly. "Give your girl an update about you-know-who."

"You can say his name," I said, smiling her way.

She gave me a teasing smile and shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I wasn't aware that I could so thanks for letting me know."

"I said some awful things yesterday and now I'm regretting every word."

She gestured for me to continue so I averted my eyes to the shiny floor and leant against the locker behind me.

"I told Owen that I wouldn't allow him to see Leon and it's harsh because it seems like I'm blaming him for what happened..."

"And do you?" She asked, walking closer to my still frame.

"Kind of, maybe- I- I don't know," I whispered out, wrapping my arms around my torso. "I shouldn't really be blaming him because it's like he said- he wasn't the one who injected my brother's veins with heroin."

"And neither did you," she said meaningfully.

I lifted my head, swallowed down whatever emotion I was feeling and silently looked up at her.

"No," I breathed out, shaking my head from side to side frantically.

Often I blamed myself for...it. It was ridiculous but I was always at fault somehow. My parents never liked me, so why wouldn't it be my fault?

And Vanessa knew that. She knew me.

Feeling a sob work its way up my throat, I hid my trembling hands under my arm pits and heavily exhaled.

"Go home, Cammie. I'll tell Miss Jenkins that you weren't feeling well," Vanessa replied after a moment and then pulled me into a hug.

"Thank you, V," I whispered out.

"Anytime, Cammie. Always."